Counting Crowes: a Plum Justified story
by MsBrooklyn
Summary: With a murder of Crowes set to descend on Harlan County in Season 5, it seemed like the perfect time for a little adventure in Trenton. Things blow up doughnuts are consumed and Raylan gets his man...or something like that.
1. Chapter 1

Counting Crowes (a Stephanie Plum crossover)  
By MsBrooklyn

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a few ideas about how to play with other people's toys. The characters of Diesel and Wulf are from the Stephanie Plum 'Between the Numbers' novellas, Visions of Sugar Plums, Plum Lovin', Plum Lucky and Plum Spooky. They also appear in Wicked Appetite and Wicked Business.

Chapter One

Family is a big deal in Trenton. At least once a week, the whole family gets together for dinner. Your neighbors know you by who your parents are, who your siblings are and sometimes, who your kids are.

My name is Stephanie Plum and people may know my parents and my sister, but I don't have any kids. What I did have were somebody else's three angry kids waving various kitchen tools at me as I tried to convince their mother to call a babysitter so I could haul her ass back to jail.

This wasn't unusual for me. I'm a bail enforcement agent or, if you prefer, a bounty hunter. I work for my cousin Vinnie and while I'm not the greatest at it, bringing in a single mother of three who shoplifted groceries wasn't supposed to be that hard. Then again, none of my cases were supposed to be that hard. But they were.

"Who's gonna watch my kids?" Keisha Wallace demanded, waving a potato masher at me. "I can't leave them by themselves because Child Services won't like that."

Keisha had a point. It wasn't like I could take them with us, either. Their mother was going to be stuck in jail until Vinnie could arrange bail for her. Also, I wasn't unsympathetic. Child support only went so far and Keisha shoplifted a Thanksgiving dinner for her family, including a fourteen pound turkey.

"Who watched them when you took the turkey?" I asked.

She eyed me and cracked her gum dismissively. "They were with me. Best distraction in the world."

Great. I was dealing with a modern Ma Barker. "If I can get you a baby sitter, will you come reschedule your court date?"

Keisha looked at her three kids and blew out a sigh.

"You shoplifted food for your kids and it's coming up on Christmas," I added. "No judge is going to keep you locked up. This is Trenton."

"It's my third time," Keisha told me. "I got caught shoplifting Easter dinner and stuff for the Fourth of July. My ex-husband doesn't pay his child support around the holidays. He likes to use the money to take his new girlfriend out instead of feeding his kids."

She had a point. Judges didn't like to see repeat offenders. On the other hand, they also didn't like deadbeat parents.

Besides, I also had mouths to feed and if I didn't haul Keisha to the clink, neither I nor my hamsters were going to eat. And one of my hamsters was pregnant. Turned out the cute hamster they told me was a boy and that I named after my friend the US Marshal was a girl. Raylan the hamster was due any day. Just like my sister Valerie, who was expecting her second child with Albert Kloughn. And like the Marshal, whose ex-wife/girlfriend was also due any day somewhere in Kentucky. Being single never looked so good.

It was my turn to sigh as I ran through my options. "What if I got you someone to watch your kids?" I asked again.

"It's almost Christmas. People are busy." She shook the potato masher for emphasis. The kids waved their kitchen tools too.

I knew someone who wasn't. My Grandma Mazur. If she could handle my mother and me and now Valerie's three daughters, chances were she could handle Keisha's kids, none of which was under five or older than nine. I pulled out my cell phone and made the call.

Fifteen minutes later, she arrived, carrying a small pile of board games and a shopping bag filled with potato chips, pretzels and candy bars. "Who wants to play Parcheesi?"

I love my Grandma Mazur. She's somewhere between seventy and one hundred years old, keeps her steel gray hair tightly permed and today was wearing a hot pink track suit that said Angel on the ass. After my grandfather went to the all you can eat buffet in the sky, Grandma moved in with my parents.

Keisha's kids eyed Grandma warily. Then the oldest one spoke, lowering the egg beater he'd been brandishing. "What's Parcheesi?"

"Go ahead," Grandma told Keisha. "We're fine."

"She may gone be all day," I warned.

"I got Monopoly and Life, too. And if that gets boring, I can teach them to shoot craps."

"We already know that game," the oldest boy said, eyeing Grandma with newfound respect.

"See?" Grandma looped a bony arm around the kid's shoulders. "We're just fine."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What happened to your car?"

I stopped short and my mouth dropped open. My brand new Hyundai Tucson was on fire but not like any car fire I'd ever experienced. Someone had poured the accelerant in the shape of a bird on my hood. It was pretty and horrifying, all at once. The interior was also on fire. That wasn't pretty, just horrifying. Also, my tires were melting.

"Is that a pigeon?" Keisha asked me.

I made noises but the words wouldn't come out.

She smacked me on the arm. "Guess I can't go back to jail today. We'll have to do this another time." With that, she went back into her apartment building, leaving me alone to stare in disbelief.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Morelli showed up thirty seconds after the fire department did. Joe Morelli is a plainclothes cop in Trenton. He's also my boyfriend. Morelli is lean and muscular, with curly black hair that reaches the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck. His chocolate brown eyes can either be soft like melted chocolate or hard like frozen chocolate. They were frozen chocolate as he looked at my car.

"You're not testifying in some mob case and forgot to tell me, right?" he asked, cutting his gaze to me.

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Going after someone who's supposed to testify?"

"Nope. I've got a shoplifter and a wife beater."

Morelli blew out a sigh. "Then I have no idea why somebody burned a pigeon on the hood of your car."

"That's not a pigeon." One of the firemen came up to us, grinning and holding up his cell phone to show us a picture of a fiery bird that was identical to the charred image on my car. "That's a crow. You know, like from that old movie."

"The one with Brandon Lee," Morelli agreed, studying the image. "Yeah, it's a match. Thanks, Danny." He turned back to me. "Piss off any movie buffs?"

"I don't think so."

"Any goths?"

That rang a bell. In fact, the skip's name was Bell. Nostradamus Bell, formerly Todd Persky, was arrested for spray painting his tag - a bell, naturally - on City Hall, the local community college and was caught in the act of painting it on the famous Lower Trenton Bridge. That's the bridge that says, Trenton Makes...The World Takes. Bell was serving ninety days in the pokey or at least he was supposed to be.

"Great googly moogly!" Grandma came up beside me. "Don't that beat all. Someone burned a chicken on your car."

"It's a crow," I told her.

"Looks like a chicken to me." She shrugged. "I need to get home. Betty Szajack and I got a double date tonight. We met a couple of live ones at Stiva's last night during Harry Barkolowsky's funeral."

Morelli and I exchanged glances and then he blew out a sigh. "I'll drive you to your parents' house."

He left the rest of the sentence hanging about how I was going to borrow my Uncle Sandor's 1957 Buick. We both knew I hated the Buick. It was huge and drove like a refrigerator on wheels. It was also indestructible. More importantly, it was free, which was good because I was dead broke.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I have meatloaf," my mother greeted us at the front door. "Valerie's here with Albert and the children." There was a slight slur to her words and I had a feeling she'd been nipping at the bottle she kept tucked in the kitchen cupboard. I could hear my nieces playing loudly inside the house and baby Lisa screaming her tiny lungs out.

Morelli looked apologetic. "I wish I could stay but I have a task force meeting."

"What kind of task force?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "You weren't working on anything last night."

"Crime never sleeps." With that, he leaned forward, pecked me on the lips and took off.

Blowing out a sigh, I made my way into the dining room where Valerie was burping baby Lisa and Albert was attempting to engage my father in small talk. Mary Alice was galloping through the living room and Angie, a clone of Valerie at that age, was reading a Little House book.

"What happened to your car?" Valerie asked me.

"Nothing unusual."

Twenty minutes later, my grandmother came down the stairs in a purple track suit, wearing matching purple lipstick and all sound in the living room stopped. I heard my mother suck in air and saw her cross herself.

"I got a hot date," Grandma announced. "Me and Betty Szajack are having dinner with a couple of stud muffins we met yesterday." The doorbell rang and Grandma clapped her hands. "That must be my stud muffin now. He's still got a driver's license."

I shuddered and opened the door. "You're not Grandma's stud muffin."

"I sure hope not," Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens told me. "Am I in time for dinner?"

Xxxxxxxx

The stud muffin arrived just as we sat down to dinner. There was a loud crash outside the house and before any of us could react, Givens was on his feet, gun drawn and peering out the window. "Call 911."

My mother reached for the phone and I followed Givens out the front door to see an old Ford Taurus stuck to the bumper of Givens' Town Car. There was a white-haired old man slumped over the wheel.

"Think he's dead?" I asked Givens.

"He may not be, but I am. I'm pretty sure he bent the frame of my car. Art's gonna be pissed." Givens holstered his gun and made his way over to the driver's side of the Taurus. "Sound asleep."

"Shoot," Grandma Mazur complained, coming up behind us and peering into the car. "I guess all the good ones really are dead. Maybe I need to find myself a younger man."

"He's not dead," I told her. "He's asleep."

She slid her dentures around her mouth. "Probably it's better than going out on another dud date. Except Betty Szajack's out there having a hot time with her stud muffin and I'm stuck here listening to your sister talk about her hemorrhoids."

Givens winced.

"Does Winona have hemorrhoids?" I asked, recalling our marshal lessons about exploiting weak points. Winona was Givens' pregnant ex-wife/girlfriend and she hadn't exactly been nice to me when I met her during my visit to Kentucky. Then again, she thought Givens and I were fooling around, thanks to some insinuations he'd made.

He eyed me and upped the stakes. "I can call her if you wanna ask."

Before I had to think of a reply, an ambulance and a cop car pulled up. The cop car was driven by Eddie Gazarra, who's married to my cousin, Shirley the Whiner. Eddie hopped out and walked around the two cars, surveying the damage to Givens' Town Car and then peering into the Taurus where Grandma's date was snoring loudly.

"That didn't take long," he said to Givens.

Givens' posture didn't change but his eyes went hard and wary. "Excuse me?"

Eddie grinned. "You're running neck and neck in the car destruction tally. Stephanie's car got burned to a crisp this morning and it looks like yours is totaled. The guys back at the station are going to be all over the new pool."

"I guess that's what you gotta do to keep yourselves busy," Givens shrugged, "workin' in a place like this."

The EMT wheeled a gurney over. "You guys mind?"

"Not at all." Givens took my arm and Grandma's arm and steered us back into the house.

"What about your car?" I asked him.

"It ain't goin' anywhere."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Stephanie and her boyfriend each totaled a car today," Grandma announced, taking a bite of her meatloaf. "Ain't that a pip?"

My mother made the sign of the cross and took a big swallow of her drink. It looked like iced tea but smelled a lot like Jim Beam. My father grunted and helped himself to more mashed potatoes.

Albert's eyes went wide. My brother in law, Albert Kloughn, has sandy blond hair, looks like he's going to hit puberty any day now and has a body like the Pillsbury Doughboy. "Really? Was anybody hurt? Do you need a lawyer?"

"They're fine," Valerie told him, patting his arm. "Want to know who's hurting? Me. My back is killing me."

"Oh! Do you want a pillow? A back rub?" Kloughn was a sweetie pie, which was great as far as being Valerie's husband was concerned. Unfortunately, it didn't help his career as a lawyer that much.

"Are you a real cowboy?" Mary Alice asked Givens.

Givens gave her his most charming smile. "I'm a deputy US Marshal."

Mary Alice wrinkled her nose and turned back to Angie. "See? I told you."

"I don't understand how you keep having all these accidents with your cars," my mother said, loudly. All the other conversations came to an abrupt halt. "If you had a normal job -"

"Ma'am," Givens cut her off. Nobody interrupted my mother when she was on a roll about how I needed to change my job. Everyone at the table collectively sucked in air. "Bounty huntin' is a normal job. It's lawful work in most states and you can earn a pretty good living doing it. Make no mistake, it's a dangerous job because you're goin' after someone who's been inside and who don't wanna go back. Cars are gonna get damaged in the process."

There was a light smattering of applause behind us and Morelli strolled in. "Nice speech except your car was totaled by a narcoleptic senior citizen and Stephanie's was set on fire by a gang."

My mother cut her eyes to the kitchen and I knew she was thinking about refilling her "iced tea." I didn't blame her. Givens, ever observant, got to his feet and took her glass. "Let me get you a refill, ma'am. Steph, wanna show me where the iced tea is?"

"Stephanie and her boyfriend are gonna go kiss," Mary Alice announced.

"Which one?" Angie asked her, wide-eyed. "Uncle Joe? Or the new one?"

"Both," Mary Alice said, authoritatively.

"Pass the gravy," my father said.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Givens knew exactly where the "iced tea" was and he refilled my mother's glass with a grin. "Ice?"

I nodded and got a couple of cubes from the freezer.

Morelli stood, hands on hips, staring hard at Givens. "You've been in town less than twenty-four hours -"

"Don't." Givens raised a hand in warning. He turned to me. "Remember Dewey and his daddy? There's a whole family of Crowes down in Harlan and one of 'em got it in his head you're the reason Dalton's dead -"

"Which one?" Morelli demanded.

"I'm not exactly sure. There's like eight of 'em that I know of, plus more that ain't got records or are on government draw." Givens shrugged and even I could tell he was lying. "I'm here to take care of it."

Morelli folded his arms across his chest. "I can take care of it."

I ignored them both and cut off a slice of the chocolate cake that was sitting on the counter. The conversation was predictable so the best thing to do was to ignore it while the Testosterone Twins marked their territory. It was amazing how Morelli's important "task force meeting" ended the second he knew Givens was here. Rather than add fuel to the fire, I closed my eyes and took a bite of cake.

"Bet you're thinking how good they'd look oiled up in a steel cage," whispered a voice in my ear.

The cake got caught in my windpipe and I choked.

Givens drew his gun. "Hands up!"

Diesel ignored him and gave me the Heimlich. The cake popped free and he kissed me on the forehead. "Better?"

I nodded. Givens holstered his gun but still looked wary. "Where the hell did you come from?" he asked Diesel. "We were standin' right here -"

"That's Diesel," Morelli told Givens. "I think he's a good guy."

Diesel snorted. He's over six feet tall, muscled, with brown eyes and sandy blond hair. Today he was wearing a flannel shirt, ripped jeans and scuffed motorcycle boots. Diesel may be a good guy but he's also not exactly normal. Things get a little crazy whenever Diesel pops in. He plucked the fork out of my hand and took a bite of cake. "Is there any meatloaf left?"

"Plenty," I told him. If he's telling the truth - and with Diesel, it's hard to tell - there are people out there with abilities that are beyond normal. Diesel calls them Unmentionables and from the few I'd met, I would prefer never to mention them again. Diesel is pretty unmentionable himself and he tracks other Unmentionables who abuse their gifts. Then he stops them. I'm not really clear on how it all works. What I do know is that he appears, things get crazy, and then POOF, he's gone. If Diesel was here, the odds were good things were about to get very crazy.

Morelli grinned and rocked back on his heels. "Well, it looks like you're in good hands with these two, cupcake."

"You're leaving?" My voice rose and spots danced in front of my eyes.

"I'm on stakeout in twenty minutes," he shrugged. Then he pulled me to him and kissed me with a lot of tongue. "I'd tell you to stay out of trouble but that's pointless."

With that, he left me standing in the kitchen with two scary men who apprehended even scarier fugitives.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"That is one pregnant hamster." Diesel tapped on the tank but Raylan the hamster ignored him. "Rex must be some kind of super stud hamster."

"Like a special power?" I asked, dropping some apple chunks into the tank. Givens, Diesel and I were back in my apartment and Big Blue was parked in the lot outside. Givens had an overnight bag and so did Diesel. I had a twitch in my left eye.

Diesel grinned at me and winked.

Givens' hand was on his gun and I could see he shared Morelli's opinion of Diesel, which was they sort of trusted him but not with me. "Mind explainin' who you are and what you're doin' here?"

"I'm Diesel and in about ten minutes, I'm crashing on that couch." Diesel cut his eyes to me. "Unless..."

"There is no unless," I told him.

"Of course there's an unless. We've unlessed before -"

"We have not! There was no unlessing and there will be no unlessing!" My left eye twitched and I clapped a hand over it. "And you can't stay here. Go pop yourself over to a motel or back to your alternate dimension or wherever it is you go."

"Pop himself?" Givens repeated, cutting his eyes to me. "What the hell does that mean?"

Diesel shrugged. "Beats me."

Givens raised his index finger like he was checking to see which way the wind was blowing. "No, she has a point. There was no vehicle parked by her parents' house."

"Maybe I walked."

"With an overnight bag?"

"Maybe I planned ahead."

"Because you're a eunuch?" Givens expression was scaring the hell out of me. "That's the only way I could see Morelli not givin' a shit that you're here."

Diesel laughed but he didn't look like he found Givens funny. "So that makes us a couple of eunuchs, doesn't it?"

"Diesel's an Unmentionable," I blurted, stepping between them, before it could get any uglier.

"Like a pair of women's underwear?" Givens cocked his head at me. "That don't make any sense."

"Neither does your hat," Diesel said, lifting it from the coffee table and inspecting it. "Still, I'm gonna roll with it."

"Why are you here?" I interrupted, taking the hat away from Diesel and handing it back to Givens. "Does it have anything to do with why Raylan's here?"

Diesel grinned, showing bright white teeth. Little lines crinkled around his eyes. It was the kind of grin that made unwanted thoughts flit through my head.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"The lady asked you a question and since it's one I've asked that you still haven't answered, I suggest you start gettin' talkative." Givens cut his eyes to me. "Steph, why don't you step away from Mister Diesel over there?"

"No! There will be no shooting in my apartment! Jeez!" I blew out a breath. "Diesel hunts bad guys." I let that hang for a moment and then added, "Special bad guys."

"Unmentionable ones?" Givens was like a dog with a bone.

"Somebody learned a new vocabulary word, didn't he?" Diesel strolled over to my fridge, rummaged inside and helped himself to a beer. He took a long swallow, emitted a loud burp and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. "Yes, Raylan, I go after Unmentionables. And, no, they are not like women's undies. What they are, are people who look like you and me but have the ability to operate beyond what are considered to be normal limitations. We tend to work alone -"

"We. So you have some kinda super power too, huh?" The sarcasm was palpable and I suspected Givens was starting to lose his patience with Diesel.

"That's for me to know." Diesel drained the bottle of beer. "What you need to know is that this Crowe you're after is working for the guy I'm after."

"And you want to work alone to find them," Givens said, flatly.

Diesel snorted. "No, I'm going to work with Stephanie. You're welcome to join us, if you promise not to act like such a tool. Your file never mentioned how uptight you are."

"File?!"

"He's pushing your buttons." I stepped between them again. "He does that."

Givens looked down at me and then back at Diesel. "Show me. You got some kinda super power, let's see it."

"What, like flushing the toilet without pressing the lever?" Diesel asked.

"That'll do for a start," Givens said.

Diesel turned to me. "I'm starting to like this guy. He's almost as gullible as you are."

"Maybe you should stay with my parents tonight," I suggested.

"With your granny and all those kids? No way!" Diesel flopped on the couch and kicked off his boots. "Besides, we need to get an early start tomorrow."

"And why's that?" Givens' jaw was clenched.

"Because Simon Crowe is being a busy boy tonight and leaving us a trail a mile wide." Diesel eyed Givens. "Like all the Crowes, Simple Simon's a doer, not a leader and the guy he's working for is dangerous." He looked at me. "You remember my cousin, Wulf, don't you?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Lemme get this straight, the guy we're lookin' for is called..." Givens' mouth twisted and it looked like he was struggling with the name. "Gerwulf Grimoire." He cut his eyes to me. "And you've actually seen him."

I nodded, not feeling like going into how Wulf kidnapped me and gave me to his lackey, Martin Munch. Wulf was the anti-Diesel. He wore expensive black suits, had black hair, scary black eyes and was like a human stun gun on steroids. He scared the crap out of me when I'd met him. My hand went to the spot on my wrist where Wulf burned me with his hand during our last encounter.

Givens' eyes tracked the movement of my hand and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. "This guy hurt you, Steph?"

I started to look over at Diesel, not sure how much I could say without sounding like I should be committed.

"How dangerous is this Grimoire, exactly?"

Diesel sat up. "Very. In addition to his...uh...superpower, he likes playing with bombs, disrupting power grids, using chemical weapons -"

"So if I have my office do a search, they're gonna have a file -"

"Of open cases and nothing on Wulf."

"And he's your kin."

"Unfortunately."

"Do you go around disruptin' power grids and blowing shit up, too?"

Diesel grinned. "On occasion. I prefer to watch ball games and drink beer."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I shut my bedroom door and crossed myself. There had been a brief argument and then Diesel lost the coin toss for the sofa. He'd complained about the sleeping bag and even though I locked my bedroom door, I was pretty sure I'd wake up with him in my bed in the morning.

In the meantime, I was too wired to sleep. I knew all I cared to know about Wulf but I didn't know a thing about Simon Crowe. Givens must have because he didn't react at all when Diesel said the name. I knew he was fibbing earlier when he told Morelli he didn't know which Crowe was after me. The question was why.

I powered on my laptop and logged into one of the search programs I used. A second later, Simon's picture popped up. It was a picture that was going to give me nightmares. Unlike Dewey Crowe, who was something of a lightweight and not too bright, Simon was big, muscled and had thick black hair. According to his file, he was called Simple Simon, not because he was stupid, but because when Simon said to do something, people did it. Or else.

He had a degree in electrical engineering that he'd gotten online during a stint for aggravated assault in Polk Prison in Florida. I had no idea how that tied into Wulf's plans but I was sure it did. The last time I met Wulf, he was trying to control the weather. Heaven only knew what crazy plan he had now that he needed a criminal electrical engineer. I shuddered and powered off the laptop.

Even though Givens and Diesel were right outside, I had a case of the heebie jeebies that wouldn't quit. I needed a peanut butter sandwich. I opened the bedroom door and found Givens sitting up on the sofa, scowling.

"He's gone," Givens announced.

I cut my eyes to the door. It was locked and the security chain was still in place. Diesel's overnight bag was still in the corner. "He does that."

"I shut my eyes for just a second."

"I know." I crossed the room and got the peanut butter. "He'll probably be back before morning. Try not to shoot him."

Givens levered himself off the sofa and helped himself to a couple of slices of bread. "It's crazy, Steph."

"I know," I repeated and took a bite of my sandwich. Ahh, that was much better. "But it's true."

"What do you know about this Diesel fella?" Givens took a paper towel, popped open my trash can and lifted out the Diesel's beer bottle. "Ever have Morelli run his prints?"

"No! Put that back!"

"Steph, the guy is going around talking about superheroes and bad guys with comic book names. What do you expect me to do?" He eyed me, hands on hips. "You're awfully familiar with him. How many times have you worked with Diesel?"

I thought for a moment. "Four."

"And it never occurred to you he might be dangerous?"

I rolled my eyes. "The man appears in my kitchen. What do you think?"

"What do you mean, appears?"

"He's just there."

"And you didn't shoot him?" Givens was staring at me. "Or stun him? Or run out screaming?"

"I thought about it the first time it happened."

"You thought about it?"

"My gun wasn't loaded." Saying it out loud was embarrassing. "I tried getting rid of him. I threw his boots out into the hall but then he just popped open the locks and came back in."

"Why were his boots off?"

"He took them off to watch TV but there's no TV in my bedroom." Hearing myself trying to explain it, I sounded pathetic.

"And you didn't run because...?"

"He offered to help me find my skip." If Givens had any respect for me once, I was sure he didn't have any now. "It's hard to explain. Diesel sort of grew on me. And he wouldn't leave."

Givens blew out a sigh. "Jesus, Steph! How is Morelli even remotely okay with this?"

"Mostly, he just ignores it."

There was a long moment of silence and then he reached for his cell phone. "I'm gonna do something I never do. I'm calling in an expert."

"You have an expert?" I asked.

"I have Tim."

"Tim Gutterson?"

Givens shrugged. "He reads books about monsters and magic wands and shit. Figure he might have some kinda insight." He pressed a button on his phone. "Hey, how fast can you be in Trenton?"

If Givens was calling for backup, I knew I was in trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Chapter Four

I woke up the next morning with a heavy arm slung over me and Diesel's chin resting on my shoulder. Past experience taught me well enough that I'd gone to bed in a Trenton PD T-shirt and running shorts, with granny panties underneath, just in case. I flung his arm off of me.

"Coffee," he grunted, without opening his eyes.

I stepped over the pile of clothes he'd left on my floor, including a pair of boxers with the NASCAR logo printed on them. Shuddering, I slipped out of my bedroom and found Givens wide awake, drinking coffee with Tim. "How did you get here so fast?"

"I flew." Tim poured a cup of coffee. "And before you get too excited, it was an airplane. There was a prisoner transport to New York, so I hitched a ride, then picked up a car from their motor pool."

Givens shot a look at my front door. "Guess the man of mystery is still out there."

I jabbed a thumb towards my bedroom door. "He's in there." Then I added loudly, "And he's getting dressed."

Tim's eyes went wide. "You and the alien?"

"Nothing happened!"

"I'll say. Those granny panties are gonna give me nightmares." Diesel staggered out of my bedroom, yawning. "What do we have to eat around here? I'm starving."

I watched the marshals sizing up Diesel as he rummaged in the fridge. He emerged empty handed and went to the cabinet where I kept my breakfast cereal. There was a box of healthy bran flakes and a box of Fruit Loops. Diesel grabbed the Fruit Loops.

"Which of you made the coffee?" Diesel asked, crunching a handful of cereal.

"I did." Tim was grinning now, clearly amused by Diesel. Givens, on the other hand, looked ready to open fire. "So you're some kind of super powered bounty hunter, huh?"

"Sort of." He helped himself to a cup of coffee. "I'll bet you're wondering how I got past you when you were wide awake and watching the door."

"There's a fire escape outside Stephanie's window," Givens said.

"It's rusty. You'd have heard me."

"You rappelled down the building and came in her window."

"Sounds like too much work." Diesel shrugged and planted himself on the couch.

Tim was obviously enjoying himself. "You Apparated."

"You read too many kids' books," Diesel told him. "But you're close."

I dropped grapes into each hamster tank. Getting the second tank after Raylan the hamster got knocked up was closing the barn door after the horse got out. Still, it made me feel better. There was something else that was going to make me feel better. "I'm taking a shower and then I'm taking my skip to the pokey. I need a volunteer to help me."

Diesel kept his eyes on the box of Fruit Loops while Givens and Tim engaged in a silent debate. After what seemed like an hour, Tim sighed. "Fine, I volunteer."

I hoped he was good with kids.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Raylan's Interlude

Diesel didn't seem to have much interest beyond watching daytime television, sitting on his ass and emptying Steph's fridge, despite his declaration last night about needing an early start. I wanted to take a shower but I knew the second I turned my back, he'd leave. Leave. Not vanish. Not Apparate, whatever the hell that meant. Leave. There was nothing special about Diesel except his brand of bullshit and I planned on proving it by running his prints.

When he snuck out last night, I'd gone through his duffel bag. It was all ordinary guy stuff, like a razor, a toothbrush and deodorant and some extra clothes. Not that it proved anything, just that Diesel had to worry about smelly breath and armpits just like the rest of us.

Finally, he shut the television off and stood up, stretching. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Nearly half an hour later, the shower still hadn't started running and Diesel hadn't emerged. I rapped lightly on the door. No response. The door was unlocked. I braced myself for a potentially embarrassing moment and turned the knob.

Empty.

What really pissed me off was that I saw him go in, I never saw him come out - and I'd been watching - and Stephanie's bathroom didn't have a window.

Sighing, I went back to my overnight bag to take out Diesel's beer bottle so I could bring it to the lab. Predictably, it was gone. I swore loudly and then decided it was time to ask Morelli what he knew.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"This Diesel guy doesn't bother you?"

"Good morning to you, too, Raylan." Morelli took one of the cups of coffee I'd brought and stepped aside to let me in. "I've been up all night, so please, make it quick."

I waited while he locked the door behind us, dodged his shaggy orange dog's attempt to bury its nose in my crotch and took a seat at his kitchen table. Morelli's kitchen was as unlike Morelli as it could possibly be. It was bright and cheerful, with curtains on the window. I was sure he didn't decorate it and equally sure Stephanie didn't either. "So, Diesel," I prompted.

"Does he bother you?" Morelli asked.

"He shows up outta nowhere, tells Steph he's lookin' for a guy named Gerwulf Grimoire, for Christ's sake, and she lets him stay in her apartment."

Morelli nodded. "You showed up, told Stephanie you were looking for a Crowe and you're probably staying in her apartment. What's the difference?"

"I'm not going around talking about Unmentionables!" How the hell could Morelli not care about this?!

"I hope not. They're not supposed to be mentioned." He yawned loudly. "I need to go to bed. If you think there's a problem, I give you carte blanche to deal with it."

I wondered if shooting an Unmentionable could get me suspended.

End interlude


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"It's Saturday," Keisha greeted me.

"Yes, ma'am, it is," Tim agreed. "Jails are open twenty-four seven."

I elbowed him sharply. "We had a deal. I have someone to watch your kids while Vinnie re-bonds you."

To his credit, Tim didn't react but I knew he would later. I'd have to take him to the bookstore and the liquor store to make it up to him. Since I'd be getting paid, a couple of pre-teen fantasy novels and a bottle of booze were the least I could do.

Keisha didn't look convinced. "The kids have a routine. The boys have football and Natasha has dance. After that, they have their book clubs."

Tim nodded. "Football's good for a couple of hours, right?"

"Dance is only an hour."

"Ma'am," Tim said and I braced myself. "I have an idea. Steph, why don't you and I see if the store owner is willing to drop the charges?" He eyed Keisha. "You're not gonna steal again, right? You're a lousy thief and you really need to be here for your kids. I have a friend who runs a veterans' group in the area and I'm sure he probably has extra food for Christmas dinner. If you promise me, I'll introduce you and if you break that promise, I will come up here and haul you to jail myself." He punctuated his speech with a flash of his badge.

Keisha flung her arms around Tim and the second she started crying, I knew I could kiss my paycheck goodbye.

I'd just have to remind myself we were doing the right thing.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"It's the right thing to do," Tim said. We had just left Keisha with a bag of groceries and some toys for the kids that Tim paid for. "Even Mr. Gallo agreed. Keisha's a regular customer and see? He was willing to give her a line of credit."

"That's great," I agreed, trying not to sound as miserable as I felt despite the happy outcome, "but my rent is overdue and I have no money for groceries."

"Oops, I forgot about that." He took his eyes off the road to look at me. "Any other skips outstanding?"

I pulled the file out of my big black shoulder bag. "Just one. Bruce Ryerson, domestic dispute."

"What's that worth?"

"Four hundred."

"Thousand?"

"Dollars."

"Shit." Tim shook his head. "Is that going to cover your rent?"

"No." It also wasn't going to cover all the Christmas presents I needed to buy. There were two weeks left until Christmas and true to form, I didn't even have a piece of tinsel.

"I'm sorry, Junior Marshal Plum. Maybe there's a skip that's worth a lot of money I can help you bring in -"

"Ranger does those." I hated sounding like Debbie Downer but it was almost Christmas and looking back at the past year, my life hadn't changed much. I was barely scraping by and now I had a bunch of baby hamsters on the way. "Maybe it's time to find a real job, like my mother says."

"And what real job would you do?" Tim was perfectly deadpan but I knew he was seconds away from laughing.

Truth be told, there wasn't much I was qualified for and not much else I wanted to do. I liked being a bounty hunter, even if I wasn't very good at it. "I'll call Connie and see if anything came in. Christmas is a pretty busy season for us, what with all that extra good will toward men."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Connie Rosolli is the office manager for my cousin Vinnie's bail bonds business. She's a little older than me, a little tougher and has breasts of a woman twice her size. She wears clothes made for a woman half her size. Connie was wearing a red and green sweater with a V-neck that would have made Santa crash his sleigh.

"Vinnie's not in a good mood," she told me. "The charges on Keisha Brown got dropped."

I cut my eyes to Tim, who managed to look completely innocent. "I heard. Anything else come in?"

"I've got two." Connie held up the folders. "They're Ranger's speed -"

"We'll take 'em." Tim took the files from her. "Oh, hey, Junior Marshal, look at this. It's a heartwarming Christmas story. Two brothers take their guns and try to hold up a bank. Naturally, they jump bail."

Spots danced in front of my eyes. "Armed robbery?"

"Guess where they live?"

"Stark Street?" Stark Street is the Bad Part of Town. It starts off with marginal businesses and slum housing and ends in a moonscape of derelict factories and scrub fields. Along the way, you can buy anything from shoplifted designer handbags to manufactured designer drugs to an encounter with a manufactured transsexual hooker. The danger level increases the further you travel on Stark, which is why I tend to avoid going there.

Tim grinned. "How would you like a marshal lesson from someone who doesn't get suspended every other week?"

My first instinct was to pass and see if they needed any more elves at the mall. The thing was, rent was five days past due. Besides, Tim was a marshal and a former Army Ranger. He knew what he was doing even if he read books about fairies and got stinking drunk in his off hours. "We're taking your car, right?"

"The one with the shotgun, yes." He slung an arm around my shoulders. "Wanna drive?"

I had a bad feeling about this.


End file.
